


Take the Weather With You

by Saucery



Series: The Sterek Porn Collection [13]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Explicit Language, Ficlet, Imagination, M/M, Porn, Sexual Fantasy, Short, Wet Clothing, Wet Clothing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-26
Updated: 2013-11-26
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saucery/pseuds/Saucery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek in a see-through T-shirt. The end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take the Weather With You

**Author's Note:**

> The title is taken from [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ag8XcMG1EX4) Crowded House song.

* * *

 

Stiles is in Derek's loft with the rest of the pack, busy rattling off the specifics of his latest anti-villain strategy, when Derek walks in from the rain. He's - he's _wet_ , all over, water gleaming on his veined forearms like oil, and his shirt is practically molded to his torso, somehow more obscene than if Derek were naked, because the transparent white cotton clings to Derek's six-pack and his bulging pecs and makes it perfectly obvious just how hard his nipples are, pebbled with cold, dark and visibly erect through his shirt.

And Stiles just… loses track of what he was saying, stuttering to a halt, eyes widening and jaw going slack and mouth flooding with saliva, because he wants to _lick_ that, all of that, and make Derek's body shine with spit the way it does with rain, make Derek's limbs glisten with sweat and strain.

Stiles can't stop imagining how soaked Derek's underwear must be, either, under those sodden jeans, the soaked fabric of Derek's Y-fronts outlining the shape of his dick, heavy and long. Oh, how Stiles _needs_ to put his mouth on that, needs to blow hotly against it just to feel Derek shiver, because Derek's just come in from the freezing downpour and Stiles's breath would be like fire against his chilled skin, even through a layer of cloth. Stiles's tongue would be even hotter, painting searing stripes up Derek's thinly-covered dick, which would grow bigger by the second, until Stiles could taste Derek through his underwear, spurts of pre-come making it even damper, the rising scent of musk mingling with the scent of rain.

And that's when Stiles realizes he's drooling - actually, literally drooling - and that the rest of the pack is staring at him, expressions ranging from appalled (Scott) to epiphanic (Isaac) to bored (Cora) to strangely hungry (Peter).

They can _smell_ him, damn it, they can all smell him, and what's even worse is that _Derek_ can smell him and Derek will hate him for it, except…

Except Derek isn't looking away.

He's looking at _Stiles_ , and there's a new heat in his eyes, a banked heat that promises to flare into an all-consuming blaze at the slightest provocation, and Stiles wants to be in that blaze, wants to be at the throbbing, pulsing center of it, alight with sensation, Derek's fangs scraping his neck -

"Well, that does it, I'm going home," says Scott, and Isaac follows him out like a lost puppy.

Cora harrumphs. "I'm not going anywhere because I _live_ here," she says, "but if you two wanna do the nasty, that's none of my business. Just promise me you'll stick to Derek's soundproofed room and try to keep it down."

"Don't be a spoilsport, dear," Peter chides. "Why should they keep it down?"

Stiles, manfully ignoring Peter's maybe-voyeurism, doesn't once move his gaze from Derek's.

Until finally, Derek heads for his room, and as he passes by Stiles, he quietly murmurs: "Bring me a towel from the cupboard in the hallway. I have to dry off."

Stiles nods vigorously and unsticks his throat and manages to say, "S-sure, I'll just - you go on ahead and I'll bring you your towel, and that's all I'll be doing, towel-delivery, right? I mean, we won't be - we won't - uh - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Cora mutters, "Derek already has a towel in his bedroom, dumbass, can't you recognize an excuse when you hear one?"

And so Stiles ends up delivering an unnecessary towel to Derek's room, except that it proves to be very necessary indeed, when it comes to wiping away the mess they make on the floor and on Derek's desk and even against the door.

It's a rewarding experience, especially when Stiles learns that it _is_ possible to raise Derek's core temperature from cool to scorching within a matter of minutes, by the simple, judicious application of Stiles's tongue.

Stiles has officially graduated from seeing to touching.

Score.

 

* * *

**fin.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Like my writing? Check out [my blog](http://saucefactory.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
